Minds Are Peculiar Poem by Joanne Togati

Peculiar minds
the most peculiar kaleidescopes of
worlds upon fantasy, upon reality, upon
the unknown.

as i peer inside mine
I say it is
bright
another comes along and tells me i am wrong
it is not as bright as i think
and yet another passes my way and tells me
that it is very Very bright
and someone else
thinks crookedly
or at least appears so to me
and tells me that mine will not be anyone else's way of seeing things
Ever. No one will ever see things quite like me, never,
because my way is peculiar, too peculiar he says
but his words come across crooked to me
and my mind becomes unclear,
very very unclear
and i say to myself
why must it be?

i begin to wonder if i'm diminished in some way
maybe that crooked disgrace is right
and then i go to extremes and think
i might be damaged
the crooked man has shaken my world

i think very heavily
too heavily
but where does it take me
and my final answer is that i'm not sure
i understand..
quite anything anymore
at all

and so i turn inside
my eyes and my ears as well
diverted away from all of the passers by
to hear my own voice
my own whisper of sanity
even if it is insanity
to someone else

i am safe with it
i am home there
it is not unusal at all for me
nor different

it is my voice
resonating

like a chord against the wire

resounding its own melody
in its strange but kind universe

and no one
crooked will
make me doubt so largely again